


i saw sparks

by lisettedelapin



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Slow Dancing, makoto is a somewhat smooth operator, rin is very cold and a little grumpy and very much gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:25:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisettedelapin/pseuds/lisettedelapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin frowns at Makoto’s perplexed expression. “You’re not…you’re not imagining us like waltzing or something, are you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i saw sparks

**Author's Note:**

> title from [sparks by coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jx-K3Il3s_o)!

There are few things that irritate Rin more than being cold and today is especially bleak. It’s frigid enough that the chill feels thick against whatever skin has escaped his swathing of blankets. Sure, the Samezuka dorms are always freezing in winter but it’s an odd sense of defiance that leaves Rin unwilling to even try and accept it. Every time he looks out the window and finds nothing but the inevitable grey cast winter sets upon the daylight, it makes him frown a little harder. It doesn’t help that Makoto is next to him right now, cheerful as ever as he works through his English homework. They’re leaning against the wall, books laid out in front of them and it would be nice except Rin has come to learn that Makoto fidgets a lot. Every time he does, the quilt shifts with him and Rin kind of wants to scream because if his foot slips out to meet the cold one more time he thinks he might actually die.

He guesses this is what he gets for taking pity on Makoto and scooting his (fantastic) ass over to offer half his bed and blanket in the first place.

What gets to him the most is that now Makoto is tapping his pen to the beat of the song playing from Rin’s mp3 player. It’s not the action itself that Rin finds grating but rather the way it makes Makoto smile and suddenly the cold feels a little more bearable. It’s not Makoto’s fault, of course. He has no control over the soft nature of his smile or the way his hands always seem to be half curled to fit with another’s. He most definitely holds no power over the Big Gross Crush weighing down on Rin’s chest. Rin thinks that’s probably why they call it a crush, because the feeling is fucking crushing him and he’s kind of happy to let it. 

Eventually, Rin catches a missed preposition and when he leans over, swearing under his breath as he pulls his hands out from the heat of the blanket so he can nudge Makoto; the song fades out and changes to something new. Rin doesn’t think much of it. It’s something in English – slow and sweet and probably about love but it makes Makoto cease writing as he pauses and stares very hard at the mp3 player. Rin shoots him a quizzical look and it’s too endearing when Makoto’s eyes crinkle as his smile grows a hint livelier.

“This song sounds really pretty,” is all he says.

Rin just nods, vaguely remembering his year 11 formal and the overpowering scent of teenage boys doused in Lynx deodorant. He’s deep in thought, on the brink of putting a name to the song when Makoto begins to _hum_ and Rin feels all the air rush dizzyingly away from him.

Of course, Makoto’s voice is devastating – smooth and warm enough that Rin is beginning to suspect him of having sucked the sun right out the sky for the brightness of the sound. The worst part is Rin doesn’t even think he’d tell Makoto to return it.

“What’s it called?” Makoto asks after some time.

Rin has to cough into his hand, his face warming as he tries and fails to be completely unaffected by how disgustingly cute Makoto sounds.

“I don’t remember the name,” he says gruffly. It would be very easy to just check the mp3 player but Makoto is very close and Rin finds that rational thought is suddenly very difficult.

“They played it at my formal in Australia,” he adds, because he needs something to say so he can distract himself from Makoto’s goddamn voice melting the chill in the air with minimum effort.

“Formal?” 

“Ah…it was like an overhyped school dance with fancy clothes,” Rin says, stretching his arms out in front of him.

“That sounds like it would’ve been fun though."

“Nagisa would’ve loved it.” Rin can’t help but smirk to himself, imagining just how Nagisa might’ve reacted to the chocolate fountain and the photobooth. “Would’ve been good but every one was kind of shy,” he finishes.

“Ah, and people danced?”

“A little. Like I said, people were shy."

“But every one knew how to?” Makoto is leaning over now, eyes slightly wider to hold his interest.

“Well, yeah it’s not that hard…I mean I was at an all boys school and they made us take really basic classes but dancing isn’t difficult.” Rin frowns at Makoto’s perplexed expression. “You’re not…you’re not imagining us like waltzing or something, are you?”

Makoto blushes lightly, looking away and picking at the duvet before turning back to Rin. “I’d have liked to see you dance is all,” he says.

Now Rin blushes too and _shit, get it together Matsuoka._ He tries to play casual, dropping his fist to rest on the line of Makoto’s shoulder.“It’s not a big deal or anything.”

Makoto looks oddly calculative for a moment, before the sharpness clears and he smiles kindly. “Teach me?” He asks.

“What?” Rin manages around a strained laugh.

“Maybe you could teach me?” Makoto repeats quietly, not missing a beat.

Suddenly Rin finds his faith in dancing being “not a big deal or anything” feeble at best. He tries to weigh pros – Makoto in very close proximity, their hands on each other as they _dance._ And then cons –the possibility of his heart pounding so hard it knocks him right out and Makoto has to take him to the hospital.

Rin thinks winners calculate their decisions. He also thinks calculations don’t mean shit when he looks at Makoto to see apprehensive eyes in a downcast gaze. And right around then he finds himself about ready to open the window so he can tell the goddamn arctic winds raging outside about his newfound loser status.   

He sucks in a short breath when he touches his hand gently to Makoto’s elbow and tells him: “okay.”

Rin’s stomach is twisting as he restarts the song. He whips off his blanket quick like a bandaid, grumbles as he drags himself out of bed and into the unforgiving cold. When he extends a hand to Makoto, ready to haul him onto the glacial wood flooring, he keeps his gaze locked resolutely away from the boy.

Makoto accepts the help gratefully, allows Rin to drop his hand once they’re face to face.

“What the fuck, I can’t believe I live in the fucking tundra,” Rin grouses, desperately rubbing his palms together to generate some semblance of heat.

Immediately, Makoto closes his much warmer hands around Rin’s. He has the nerve to grin when Rin, eyebrows twitching, looks up.

“How are you always so warm, Tachibana?” he mutters, trying to find distance in the use of Makoto’s last name, as if they’re not holding hands right now.

Makoto raises an eyebrow, and Rin can’t help the impression that Makoto sees right through him. Still, Makoto has enough grace to answer.

“I think I’ve always had a slightly higher body temperature than others,” he says. He waits a moment, the flush still barely visible on his cheeks, as he seems to grasp for a decent segue. “Should we start?” He finally adds sheepishly.

Rin grunts, dragging one of Makoto’s hands to his shoulder before taking the other and twining their fingers. His cheeks are burning when, reluctantly, he stretches his arm out to place his free hand on Makoto’s waist. He tries to keep his touch as light as possible but Makoto still jumps. He relaxes just as fast though; breathing out a whisper of a laugh that curls low in Rin’s gut.

They start with basic footwork in the immediate space. Rin’s hands are sweating and his heart is pounding in his ears but Makoto is concentrating so hard on the task at hand, he probably doesn’t notice any of it. They continue like that for a short while until, softly, Makoto says, “I think I’ve got it now.” Rin grapples for a weak smile, tightening his grip around Makoto’s hand and swallowing thickly.

With an encouraging nod from Makoto, Rin leads Makoto’s hesitant feet in a stretching arc around his dorm; he’s wordless, blushing as the flooring unfolds beneath them. There’s a respectable amount of space between the two, but there’s a sense of intimacy to the act of dancing itself, especially when it’s with Makoto. Soon enough, Rin finds that the details start to compensate for the politeness of their distance – Makoto’s shuddering exhale when Rin’s hand flexes against his waist; missing the sharp edge of the desk by millimeters as Rin stretches to twirl him in a slow, concentrated circle. It sets his nerves on a slow-burn, has him wanting to give it up and pull Makoto closer just as much as it makes him want to step away from the butterflies in his stomach.

They stay quiet, the song swelling behind them as Rin watches Makoto watch his feet. It’s dangerous, really, because Rin is attempting to count each of Makoto’s eyelashes, paying too much attention to where his hair could be stroked down, and Makoto could look back up at any second and understand exactly what’s going on with Rin and his traitorous heart.

Eventually, the silence between them starts to lay thick on Rin’s tongue; the quiet manifesting as a new kind of charge that makes the air feel thinner. He can feel it pulling at the threads of how he presents himself to Makoto, senses that the way his eyes might be shining right now is most definitely not platonic.

He tries to swallow away the dryness of his throat before searching for his voice. “You’re doing fine,” he manages after some effort.

Makoto looks up at that and for a dizzying, head rush of a moment; it is only each other in his and Rin’s line of sight. That gets to be too much after a while as well and the ease of Makoto’s smile melts into something a little unsure, a lot embarrassed. And it frightens Rin how badly he hopes the flush on Makoto’s cheeks isn’t purely polite.

“Um, sorry but this is a little uncomfortable,” Makoto says.

Rin cringes, his heart dropping straight down to weigh heavily on his gut because of all people, he wouldn’t have expected Makoto to reject him this easily, this suddenly.

He’s loosening his grip; about to pull away so he can salvage the withering remnants of his pride when Makoto bites his lip and says, “You’re a little short.”

And _really?_ That’s too far. Rin gasps indignantly, squeezing Makoto’s hand and stopping their movements. “Just because you’re a literal tower, doesn’t mean the rest of us who are still _taller than average_ are—“

“Much better,” Makoto cuts him off, smiling lightly. Rin forgets his words anyway, because Makoto has drawn Rin’s arms up to rest lazily around his neck; moved his own hands down to spread against Rin’s waist. Gently, he tugs Rin closer, so their bodies press neatly against each other and Rin feels like he should fall right through Makoto; finds himself surprised when he hits his body – warm and solid and real. His face is burning as he tries to adjust them a little, resting the side of his face against Makoto’s chest and inhaling.

He can feel Makoto swallow thickly when, quietly, he begins to sway them and _alrightalrightalright_ , so what if Rin is forgetting the mechanics of functioning.

“Y-you’re…” Rin gulps, searches desperately for his cool. “I’m dancing with an elaborate space heater.” Nailed it.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” Makoto’s chuckle is warm and breathy, the sound fanning against Rin’s hair.

“Only the ones I dance with.”

Makoto inhales sharply at that. “Does this still follow dancing etiquette?” His voice wavers slightly and Rin takes comfort in knowing that Makoto is just as keyed up by this as him.

“It’s more glorified cuddling,” Rin mutters, realising he’s toeing the line here; finding himself caring too much and not enough at the same time.

“Still nice.”  
  
Rin smiles, his ears burning as he buries his face against Makoto’s chest.

The music starts to fade out gracefully in the background, just as Makoto presses his cheek to Rin’s hair and sighs. “I don’t really want the song to end…” When he speaks, there’s a shy clarity to his voice. It makes Rin think of dipping his feet into the ocean; the fleeting first touch of his toes to the water.

Makoto slows them down until they’ve completely halted and Rin feels his eyes flutter closed. His heart glows warm and erratic in his chest as he feels something brush against his hair and he considers for a wild second, that Makoto might’ve just dropped a kiss to his head like the most natural thing in the world.

“I could always restart the song…” Rin says.

Makoto manages to draw him closer still and Rin can’t even comprehend how it could possibly be cold outside. He wonders if it’s possible to float away, thinks he already might be considering how surreal this entire situation is.

“I could teach you again,” he tries. Because really, there’s little more he could do to make himself more vulnerable right now.

“Please,” is all Makoto says; his voice hushed despite all the weight in the word.

Neither of them moves when the song ends, both of them loose and warm against each other despite the timid settling of something new between them. In the quiet space between the last song and the next, Makoto’s fingers twitch against Rin’s waist and Rin feels the touch like they’re two tectonic plates shifting and brushing against each other. It echoes past Rin’s bones like the fault lines in unaccustomed earth and, ultimately, it’s the raw grandeur of the feeling that has Rin determined to look Makoto in the eyes when he pulls away. 

“We should get back to studying,” he says. But he runs his hand down Makoto’s arm as he says the words; does nothing to hide the matching blush on his cheeks when Makoto shivers under the touch.

  
~

  
Later, he allows himself to dig his fingers in Makoto’s hair when, briefly, they hug at the Samezuka gate. Then he drops a scrap piece of paper in Makoto’s hand, folded twice over the shaky letters that spell the title of the song.

“Next time, you don’t have to bother bringing your books,” Rin mutters, harbouring a newfound uncharacteristic sense of comfort towards the fierce cold soaking through his skin.

If Makoto’s answering smile could melt snowflakes; then the skim of his trembling mouth against Rin’s cheek might end winter itself.

The hope doesn’t feel completely empty when Rin wonders if he might find out.

**Author's Note:**

> h elp me i've fallen so hard for this ship i


End file.
